


Don’t Stop (Instructing Me on How to Defuse This Bomb)

by screamingtoo



Category: Keep Talking And Nobody Explodes
Genre: Bomb Deactivation Sex, Bomb Defusal Sex, I'm so sorry, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, but I guess it happens, just know that going in, not a tag anyone- least of all me- thought I'd ever use, this work is focused far more on the bomb defusing than the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27860029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingtoo/pseuds/screamingtoo
Summary: Two guys have to defuse a bomb. It’s a plenty stressful time to have sex, but they were tied up like that anyway, so you can’tcompletelyblame them. (Except that you can.)
Relationships: The Defuser (Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes)/The Expert (Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	Don’t Stop (Instructing Me on How to Defuse This Bomb)

**Author's Note:**

> Fellas, is it gay to be tied up with your genitalia buried deep in your homie? Discuss.
> 
> If you recognize my writing style, no you don't. <3.

I woke up in a dark room. I checked the clock on the table, and it was early morning. It was pitch black, and not nearly early enough to even still be dark outside, so I was quickly able to deduct that there were no windows.

A scan of the room once my eyes adjusted to the blackness- other than the dim light of the clock- led me to the conclusion that I was closed in. My waist was tied to the chair behind me with thick rope, and the door across the room had so many locks on it that I'd need plenty of time to unlock.

Oh, and there was a ticking bomb on the table in front of me.

I flipped it over to see a countdown clock that was bright enough to sting my eyes. Which would've been pretty helpful for seeing, but I'd gotten the handle on my surroundings well enough to focus on the bomb.

But fuck, it was hard to do anything with the man tied underneath me buried inside of me.

We were sitting in a... not very comfortable position. I was essentially sitting on his lap, and he was sitting on the chair. My waist was tied down to the chair. I patted around to feel that his arms were tied behind the chair, and his legs were tied to the legs of it.

His jeans and underwear were bunched around his thighs, and the thick fabric dug into the bottoms of my thighs. I was dressed much lighter, my thin pajama shorts around my ankles and my underwear carefully shifted to the side.

I squeaked as he shifted around, trying to see the bomb around me.

Once we kinda got situated, I started to talk to him.

"Can you see the bomb from your position?" I asked, picking it up and scanning it.

"No. And don't shake it trying to pass it to me."

He always kinda shook when he was nervous. His hands got shaky, but in that moment, I learned that it happened to his hips, too. I decided not to mention what he was doing to my insides, preferring the idea of focusing on the bomb. Bombs were normal. Bombs were familiar. Inadvertently sitting on my boss's dick... not so much.

I bit my lip to stop any noises from slipping out.

"I... I can't get a good hold on the bomb where I'll be sure I won't drop it. Can we... move forward a little?" I gulped, readying myself for the impact.

"Would it be more helpful for you to stand?" He asked.

"I guess," I managed to squeak out.

And then his body was pressed against me, and I was standing as upright as I could with a chair behind me and a dick inside me. He was practically just held up by my back, and my knees buckled. I stumbled to the point where my chest and one of my cheeks were pressed against the table.

And then he started thrusting.

I gasped, and clawed at the table, before forcing my mind to be analytical. And forcing it back to the bomb.

I made myself recount facts in my head. The table was made of plastic, like ones someone would find in a school cafeteria. It was strong enough- sturdy enough- to hold our weight. The chair seemed to be wooden. The ropes were thick. The certain appendage inside of me was also thick.

I tried to make myself think of that last thing as an objective fact. An analysis instead of my brain wanting him to just fuck me silly.

No. It was an analysis. Just a fact.

My brain went blank, and I had no idea how I was supposed to focus on the bomb.

"T-There are wires," I managed to stutter out in between gasps.

"How many? What colors?" He asked, managing to press his hips flush against my ass.

I normally try to memorize things. The type of wires. How many wires. Their colors. But at that moment, I could only stutter them out as I watched them. I hoped and prayed that I was coherent enough for him to understand.

And my prayers were answered when he told me to cut the fourth one.

I quickly did, and was rewarded by a green light turning on on the module.

I went to the next one, trying to ignore just how he managed to hit every good spot inside of me.

The module was a memory numbers game. Knowing that my brain was far too foggy for any of that, I just read all of the numbers aloud to him, and he told me exactly what to push.

I followed his commands, and before I knew it, that module had a green light, too.

My other rewards were a kiss on the back of my head, and his mutter of "Good boy," both thoroughly satisfying.

My cheek was pressed flush against the table, eyes forced to move without the movement of my head as I tried to focus on the bomb while still using my arms to keep myself upright.

The alarm clock started blaring, and I reached out an arm to slap it off.

I slipped, and he somehow managed to get further inside of me. I took deep breaths as I gripped the edges of the table.

"Fuck," I muttered, sounding unbelievably whiny and needy. Not like myself at all. Were I not needing both of my hands, I would've slapped one over my mouth.

Then the timer counting down brought me back from my daze. The bomb.

The bomb. The bomb. The bomb.

Not the way my boss was fucking me in a way that made me feel like I was about to melt.

I couldn't focus on that. The bomb was what was important.

We only had two modules left, and we were running out of time.

"What do you see next?" He asked, right into my ear.

"Maze," I squeaked.

He asked me for the positions of all of the identifiers, and I gave them to him, my knees shaking despite the fact that I really wasn't bearing much weight on either of them.

He gently guided me through the maze, offering directions that I heeded, pushing the little arrows to guide my square towards the triangle.

I hit it, and the green light lit up. I cheered, and then felt a gentle kiss on my neck.

I smiled, feeling warm inside.

Emotionally. Not focusing on anything inside me physically. That was unimportant.

"How many more modules?" He asked, a little bit of a grunt behind his words.

I pretended not to notice the sound of skin slapping together, nor the fact that it was his skin and mine.

I couldn't ignore it. I couldn't ignore all of the feelings and the pleasure and the sounds, but I was a damn good pretender.

"One. Simon Says."

"We have no strikes, correct?" He asked, a bit of edge in his voice.

And it was fucking hot.

No. It was fine.

It was normal.

He was always like that.

The ticking was loud. I focused on it, letting it drown out my thoughts.

"Correct," I answered.

I told him the pattern, and he told me which buttons to press. All the while practically pressing buttons inside me.

It was pleasurable and irritating, and for the briefest moment, I considered telling him to stop so I could focus on the bomb, but it was just another challenge that I had to work through. The modules were a challenge. The things he was doing to me were a challenge. I just needed to finish.

Defusing the bomb. Not finish like ejaculate. I was perfectly fine not doing that, as long as I defused the bomb.

And then I hit the last button of the pattern.

The light went green. And I was cheering. I stumbled backwards, and we were back to our original position.

He used the knife in his hand to cut the ropes binding us. He took his condom off and tied it off, then pulled up his underwear and pants. I did the same with mine and my shorts.

I glanced at the clock to see... very few seconds left.

"Come on. I know you can do better." He gave me a joking stern look. "What if that had been a real bomb? What if we had been in real danger? It was a very close call."

I raised my eyebrows. "Maybe if it were a real bomb, you would've done more helping and less thrusting."

"Oh, come on! You can't seriously blame me for that." He stuck his tongue out at me.

"Yes," I muttered. "Yes I can. You were distracting me."

"Well there will be distractions out in the field! I'm just preparing you for that." He snickered at me.

"Fine, fine. Whatever." I gave him a smile and kissed him on the cheek. "And besides, that wasn't _that_ close of a call. Plus, we defused it during penetration like that."

"Damn right we did," he said, slipping off his jeans.

I high-fived him and snuggled closer to him. "Now I'm tired."

"Okay. Now how about we get some Gatorade and go to bed. But be prepared for more bomb training tomorrow." He wrapped an arm around me as he talked, giving me a lovestruck look that made my heart sing.

"Mm. Gatorade and sleep sounds like a lovely night." I paused to laugh. "And of course I'm prepared. This is our job."

I reached over to hold his far hand- the one that wasn't around my shoulders, and he nuzzled his head against mine.

Truly a lovely night, if I've ever had one.

**Author's Note:**

> As for why they're tired in the early morning, they didn't get much sleep setting everything up. The time discrepancies are not actually discrepancies, but in fact, the main characters pretending that they aren't disaster gays.


End file.
